Four More Looks at Freylin
by vickitata14
Summary: Responses to a series of Tumblr prompts by merlinshipsfest. Oneshots, AUs, etc. Rated T to be safe.
1. Before and After

**I'm participating in a MerlinShipsFest on Tumblr right now. I thought I'd post the fics I write for it on here as well as there. My ship of choice is Freylin; it's short and sad but so beautiful. **

**The prompt is Before/After. This one is short, but the next one will be longer.**

**I don't own Merlin. I just write fics to make me feel better about the ending.**

* * *

Before he met Freya, Merlin was young. His impetuous nature and ardent desire to do the right thing responded with unadulterated compassion to the druid girl chained inside the cage. The fear in her eyes was a reproach against him, who deliberately deceived King Uther himself every day that he dwelt in Camelot. He did not help her out of any mere sense of duty, however. He saw her and all thought abandoned him save that he must save her.

**. . .**

Before he met Freya, Merlin had never felt so alive. He took her in his arms, and all at once he knew the spark that ignites at the meeting of two people who were always meant to find each other. He kissed her, and every atom in his body set ablaze. His heart had never beat so fast, his blood had never flowed so warm. Something vibrated deep inside him, breaking open and sending life like he'd never felt it before coursing through his veins. A harmony arose, a similar vibration, so sudden and so beautiful that he drew back in wonder. Freya's eyes fluttered open, and, looking into them, Merlin found the source of the harmony. The smile that spread across his face only hinted at the joy that overwhelmed his every sense.

**. . .**

Merlin stood at the shore of the lake of Avalon. The mists over the waters hung heavy with magic, and the mountains in the distance were a dusty purple-gray. Yet the beauty did not charm him, and the magic did not arouse his senses. There was only a terrible, vast emptiness aching inside him. The fire burning out on the lake, intended only to consume the empty shell that had once held Freya, seemed to be eating away at Merlin's heart. He lacked the strength to stand up straight, to move his feet, or to tear his mind away from those golden days of happiness and life. Amidst these memories he had only one other thought.

_This is what it is to feel old._


	2. Modern AU

**My second Freylin fic, guys! I promised longer; it's about 10 times the length of the last one!**

**The prompt, courtesy of merlinshipsfest of tumblr, is a modern AU. So this is a modern retelling of S2E9: The Lady of the Lake.**

**I don't own Merlin. If I did, I wouldn't have had the heart to kill off Freya.**

* * *

The first time Merlin saw her, she was standing pressed against the wall on the first day of school. Isolation seemed to hang over her; she stared mutely at the sea of teenagers bustling past as though something kept her irrevocably separated from them. Merlin half-expected an invisible wall to repel him the moment he approached her.

"Hey."

She started at his voice, perhaps equally surprised that no unseen force had turned him away. Wide brown eyes turned hesitantly upwards to meet blue ones that crinkled gently at the corners when he smiled. She held his gaze solemnly. Unusually for him, Merlin felt neither self-conscious nor awkward under her scrutiny, and he yearned inexplicably to hear her speak.

"My name's Merlin."

She remained silent, but a slight softening about the tight line of her lips was all the encouragement Merlin needed.

"You must be new. Do you need help finding your way around?"

She glanced down at the schedule resting on top of the books in her arms, and he followed her gaze.

"Calculus." He whistled. "Well, that would be-actually, let me just take you there."

She followed him through the halls for the rest of the day like a beautiful shadow. He shared no classes with her, but he bolted from every classroom the moment the bell rang to find her waiting silently at the door where he had left her last. He dropped her off at her next class, went to his own, and repeated the process. After the final bell, they walked outside together into a late August thunderstorm.

Merlin peered out at the student parking lot. His car was not too far away, thank goodness. He looked back at the girl, who eyed the rain with severe apprehension and tugged the worn edges of her red cardigan sleeves over her hands.

"Hey, you don't have to walk home in this, do you?"

She only looked at him.

"That's ridiculous. Come on, lemme drive you home."

She posed no objections. As Merlin braced himself for the rain, he looked back at her and, on a whim, grabbed her hand and ran. Thanking heaven for automatic unlock buttons, he opened the passenger door and handed her in. She gazed fixedly at their joined hands until he let go, and the warmth of her touch seemed to linger much longer than it should have. He ran around to climb into the driver's seat, making a face at the sticky coolness as he sat down.

"So, where do you live?" He smiled almost apologetically, thinking that she would finally have to talk.

She surprised him by returning a small smile. She remained mute, but Merlin could have sworn he saw a gleam of mischief in her eye as she pulled a wallet from her bag and opened it. The inside flap read, in beautiful calligraphy, "If lost, please return to," and then an address. Merlin frowned as he read it, but said nothing as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the school.

Ten minutes later they pulled into the trailer park at the other end of town. Merlin stared pensively at the tiny trailer before him as the girl gathered her bags and stepped out of the car. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a low but sweet voice broke the silence.

"Thank you." The smile she gave him flooded his whole body with warmth.

He felt such delight at hearing her voice that he did not answer. It was only when she turned and shut the car door that he came to his senses. Frantically he pushed at the button to roll down the car window.

"Wait!"

She turned back.

"Will you tell me your name?"

Merlin's heart sunk when she ducked her head, breaking eye contact. When she looked up again, however, her gentle smile had not faded.

"Freya."

**. . .**

The next morning, Merlin was parked outside Freya's home at seven a.m. When she walked outside a few minutes later and saw him standing by his car, waiting to open the passenger door, a crease appeared between her eyebrows and she pinched her lips together. Merlin, who had been hoping for a smile, tried hard not to appear hurt as he looked expectantly at her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him doubtfully.

His smile this time was tinged with sadness. "Because I want to, Freya."

**. . .**

One Friday afternoon in the middle of September, instead of driving her home, Merlin took Freya to get ice cream. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing the moment he turned right out of the school parking lot instead of left, but he shushed her playfully. Her eyes shone when they stepped out of the car, and they overflowed with gratitude he would not let her stammer to express.

They sat at a faded wooden picnic table, its weathered ridges warm in the late summer sun. Sundaes long finished, they laughed helplessly as Merlin repeatedly failed at getting the plastic spoon to stick to the end of his nose. Freya's long hair shone in dark chestnut waves, tumbling in her face, framing it in a moment of pure joy. In the midst of her laughter she looked searchingly at him.

"Why are you doing this, Merlin?" she asked.

His eyes crinkled around the corners. "Because I want to," he answered simply.

**. . .**

One Friday at the end of October, when it was no longer warm enough for ice cream, Merlin took Freya out to dinner. In a booth tucked away in the very corner of the restaurant they stuffed themselves on bottomless bread baskets and shared a plate of chicken parmesan. Merlin asked the waiter for a candle for the table, ordered a surprise coffee and dessert while Freya was in the ladies' room, and, of course, brooked no argument on the subject of paying the whole bill. Freya only smiled and reached shyly under the table for his hand. Merlin's heart swelled.

Parked outside Freya's trailer later that night, they sat in the backseat of Merlin's car. His arm was around her, and he played absentmindedly with the ends of her hair. He brimmed over with such happiness he thought he might burst. Freya snuggled closer to him, sighing.

"Why are you so good to me?" she murmured, pressing her fingers against Merlin's and slowly entwining them.

"Because," he replied, voice hoarse with nerves, "I like you, Freya."

She sighed again, longer this time, and pulled away. She kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger there, but then turned, opened the car door and got out without another word. Merlin sat, motionless, unsure why all he felt was an overwhelming sadness.

**. . .**

Early Saturday afternoon saw Merlin shifting nervously in front of Freya's front door, knuckles poised only inches away from knocking. After spending the whole morning jumping every time his phone vibrated, he had gotten up, grabbed his keys off their hook, yelled to his mum that he was going out, and driven away. His heart pounded the whole way, and every stop light was an agony of frantically drumming fingers.

Now he tightened his fist, took a deep breath and knocked. He thought his heart might escape his chest, but then it stopped as he heard the rasp of the lock and the creak of hinges. The door opened a few inches and Freya's waifish face appeared.

"Merlin!" She opened the door further but folded her arms across her chest, letting the metal frame fall against her shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

Unsure why he had been hoping she would be more pleased to see him, Merlin suddenly felt as self-conscious as she looked running her hands gently up and down their opposite arms. "I just wanted to see you again," he faltered.

She pursed her lips and looked down at the ground, hair falling over her face, but Merlin's heart lifted when he saw the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. She glanced up and met his eye.

He hesitated a moment before asking: "May I come in?"

Freya said nothing, but nodded and stood to the side, allowing Merlin into her home for the first time. He stepped inside, then stood shifting in the doorway, waiting for Freya to indicate where they should go next. The silence extended well into the realm of discomfort before she seemed to realize what he was waiting for.

"Would you like to sit down?"

The words tumbled from her lips as she gestured towards the tiny living area to their right. She would not look at him. Merlin meekly sat down on the faded couch, hoping she would join him, but she turned her back and walked into the kitchen where she busied herself with opening and closing cabinets.

"Do you want anything?" she began to ramble without looking back at Merlin, "I could make tea. I'm not sure we have any biscuits, but we might have bread and butter. No." An inexplicable note of hysteria entered her voice. "Damn, just margarine. Do you mind margarine? It's just mum hasn't had time to go shopping, so there's not much-"

She squeaked, cut off mid-sentence by Merlin, who grabbed her gently on either side of her waist. He spun her around to face him, and was startled to see her eyes brimming with tears. She struggled against his hold, yet her wide and desperate gaze remained fixed on his searching one. Only moments more and she gave up fighting him. The tears began to slip from her eyes, gaining speed until she was shaking with mute sobs. Bewildered, Merlin gathered her to his chest and held her, rocking slowly side to side and rubbing her back. Gradually her tears subsided, but she remained in his arms.

"Freya," he finally dared to ask, "what's wrong?"

"Merlin," she sighed, pulling back from his embrace, "you shouldn't be doing this."

Merlin struggled to keep his voice even. "Is that why you ran away from me last night?"

She turned away. "I'm not what you think I am, Merlin. I wouldn't be good for you."

"Freya." He pulled her back to him and looked her square in the eye. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He gently pressed his lips to hers, and in that moment, everything was perfect.

**. . .**

It was early December when the first snow fell and Merlin asked Freya to go to Winter Ball with him one afternoon after school. She had grown pale and thin in the past few weeks; dark circles had appeared beneath her eyes and she leaned against his car for support as they stood talking outside her house. She also seemed to smile less often these days. Merlin hoped to cheer her up with his invitation.

She did smile when he asked, but it was sad and subdued, not the enthusiastic "yes" he had daydreamed about. "I don't know, Merlin," she said with a sigh.

Seeing the disappointment he could not keep from his face, however, she quickly added, "I just don't know if I feel up for a dance, you know?"

She _did _hate crowds, Merlin admitted to himself.

"Also…" She hesitated, and her cheeks tinged pink. "I don't think I'd be able to aff-get a nice dress." Her blush became very pronounced at her near slip of the tongue.

"Don't worry about that," protested Merlin. "It doesn't matter to me what you wear. I just want you to come with me."

She ducked her head, but Merlin knew she was smiling in spite of herself. "And if I say yes?" she inquired teasingly, looking back up at him.

He grinned and let out a breath of relief. One brief but tender kiss, and he climbed back into his car, the wheels in his brain already turning rapidly on how to make everything perfect. It was only after he was out of sight that the smile fell from Freya's face, replaced by a look of exhaustion and sorrow.

**. . .**

Merlin's mother looked at him with bemused affection when he came home from school the following week and asked her if she'd come shopping with him. He had meant what he said about not caring what Freya wore, for his own sake anyway. He desperately wanted, however, for her to have something nice for herself. Immediately he knew that he wanted to buy her a dress, but he judged himself woefully ignorant in the matter of girls' clothes, and it took him rather longer than it should have to think of asking his mother for help. He alternately stammered and rushed through his explanations; she placed her hand over her heart and smiled mistily. Not only did she agree in a heartbeat, but she offered to help him pay. Merlin wouldn't hear of it.

**. . .**

Merlin's insides squirmed all weekend, and they positively writhed whenever he glanced at the tiered, purple gown hanging in the closet next to the tux he had rented. He itched to drive straight to Freya's house and give it to her, so as to finally relieve his suspense, but she was away.

"I have to go to the city with my parents this weekend," she had murmured before kissing him goodbye on Friday afternoon.

This wasn't the first time it had happened, but Merlin had sighed as he thought of the dress. "When will you be back?"

"Monday. Probably around noon. So I won't be at school."

Monday was agony. The writhing in Merlin's stomach drove him inevitably towards total distraction all day, so that when he finally climbed into his car and saw the dress folded neatly in a gift bag on the seat beside him, he thought he might explode before he made it to Freya's house. The drive had never seemed so long; he found himself wondering why moving from one place to another had to take _time._

When that allotted time was finally up, he stood on Freya's doorstep, practically bouncing; it felt like the only way to keep his racing heart inside his chest. The door squeaked open, and Merlin's face fell along with his heart when he saw Freya's mother. He didn't know Freya's parents as well as he knew he should. They both worked long, late hours for low pay; Freya was essentially on her own most of the time. Merlin felt his nerves begin a second crescendo as he greeted the tired but warm-eyed woman before him.

"Hello! Is-Is Freya home?"

She smiled and nodded, but wearily.

"May I see her?" He clutched the gift bag tightly in one hand and fought the urge to worry the edge of his jacket sleeve with the other.

"Of course. Will you wait here a moment?"

Merlin swallowed his impatience and nodded. Freya's mother disappeared and a moment later Merlin heard low, tense voices conversing inside. He shifted back and forth, worst-case scenarios flitting through his mind. Fortunately, he was allowed in only minutes later. Freya's mother gestured towards the couch where Merlin had sat the last time he was here and then disappeared into her bedroom.

"Hello, Merlin." Freya sat on the couch, wrapped in blankets. Her eyes shone wide and glassy, and despite the blankets and nearby space heater, there was no warmth in her cheeks. Her smile looked painfully large in her drawn face, which was framed by the limp curls escaping the messy bun on top of her head.

He gaped for a minute. "You look awful!" he blurted out.

She chuckled. "Well thanks for that."

"Are you sick?" he asked, sitting down beside her, gift bag dangling forgotten in his hand.

She gave another humorless laugh. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry!" He pressed his lips to her temple. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I'm not contagious, since you didn't ask."

"It doesn't matter to me." Merlin reached under the blanket and took her hand. He turned his head quickly hide his alarm when he felt the cold and fragile thing. It refused to warm at his touch, and instead seemed to send its chill into him.

"I brought you a present!" He didn't know what else to say

Freya gasped softly as he pushed the clearly high-end gift bag at her. She drew her tiny hand from his, and it trembled as she lifted the tissue paper.

"Merlin!" The way she said his name wrung his heart.

"Do you like it?" he faltered, barely squeezing the words out.

"Oh, Merlin, it's beautiful!" She lifted the dress reverently from the bag, eyes roaming the whole thing, lingering on the intricate gold detailing at the empire waistline. She pressed it to her cheek and inhaled deeply.

"I thought-maybe-you could wear it to the dance?"

Freya sighed and set the dress carefully back in the bag, running her fingers once more over the shimmering folds before putting the bag aside. She sank back into the couch, every motion heavy and deliberate. When she finally spoke, her tone matched her movement.

"Merlin, I can't go to the dance with you."

"Maybe you'll be better on Friday." But his voice rang hollow of conviction and an insidious dread began to creep out from the pit of his stomach.

"Merlin…"

The silence stretched out after her words into infinity. She might never have spoken again, but Merlin could not bear it.

"Freya!" He grabbed her hand, she pulled it away. "Freya, for the love of God, tell me what's wrong!"

She whipped around to face him, eyes brilliant with unshed tears. "I'm _dying, _Merlin!"

He recoiled instinctively at her violent words, but the harshness fled as quickly as it came upon her and she seemed once more to grow very small. "I can't even stand up by myself anymore," she whispered, and she collapsed against him and began to sob.

His arms went around her of their own accord; his mind had stopped working. The one thought that remained was that, somehow, as long as he was holding her, everything would be all right.

**. . .**

_Cancer._

From the moment it had passed Freya's lips, that word seemed to be everywhere. It ran on endless repeat in Merlin's head. He had to excuse himself from Human Anatomy on Thursday when somebody mentioned it. He stood over the sink in the boys' bathroom, clutching the edges and breathing heavily, trying to stop the tears that rained down his cheeks.

He couldn't remember leaving Freya's house on Monday, but he knew he must have because he did remember what happened when he got home. He stood in the kitchen doorway. His mum asked him something. "What's wrong," maybe. Then he was screaming and swearing and crying, and he thought he remembered a plate lying shattered on the floor. His mum's arms were around him and he sobbed himself into oblivion.

**. . .**

Friday was a half day. Term ended at noon, and the student activities board got to work on the final preparations for Winter Ball. Merlin drove to Freya's house, where her mother let him in immediately. He saw her dad on the couch, head in his hands, hair ragged.

"She's in our bedroom," her mother told him, before going to sit beside her husband, taking his hand and leaning wearily against his shoulder.

Merlin entered the bedroom on tiptoe. She was resting peacefully, hair splayed out around her head. They hadn't been able to afford much in the way of treatment, so she got to keep her hair. Not much, Merlin thought bitterly, when you were walking with a death sentence, knowing it was only a matter of time before it spread somewhere vital, in this case, to her lungs.

She stirred as he approached and took her hand.

"Hey," she murmured.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not bad." She gave him a small smile. "Help me sit up?"

Merlin nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He placed her arm around his neck and lifted her gently with one hand at the small of her back while he propped up the pillows with the other. She lay back against them, a small noise of contentment escaping her lips.

Freya had seemed so much-happier wasn't the right word-_freer_ since she had confessed her secret to Merlin, and he in turn had tried to hide how burdened he felt now.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he had whispered miserably into her hair.

"I was afraid you would leave me."

It was too hard to feel betrayed in the face of such innocent fear, so he forgave her. He held her hand and looked back on golden, sunlit days and smiled.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

"You," he said simply, and kissed her hand.

"Come here." She patted the bed next to her. "Sit with me."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat. She scooted a little to the side and patted more insistently. After a moment's hesitation he climbed up beside her and sat a little awkwardly, his shoulder brushing hers.

She leaned into him. "Hold me."

Instead, he sat bolt upright. "Just a minute," he exclaimed softly, and ran to the corner of the room, where he had spotted a familiar white gift bag.

He lifted the gown from the bag with as much care as she had the first time she saw it. He held it up and walked back to her bedside.

"Would you like to wear it?"

Her eyes sparkled and she nodded.

"Come here, then."

He folded back the covers, then met her eyes questioningly. She nodded, and he began gently to undo the buttons on the oversized pajama shirt she wore over a thin white camisole. He looked continuously and exclusively into her eyes as he slipped the sleeves off each arm. Then he turned and picked up the dress, fumbling a bit with the zipper as he undid it in order to slip the gown over her head. It fell in dark, smooth waves about her waist while he lifted the capped sleeves over her shoulders, and she leaned forward to let him zip it up.

He glanced at the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

"Do you want to see?"

"Oh yes," she breathed.

He scooped her up into his arms and smiled down at her although his stomach lurched at how little she weighed. Standing before the mirror, he placed her feet on the ground. She leaned backwards into him as he spanned her waist with both hands, holding her upright. She gasped.

The dress, which would have fit her perfectly a month ago, hung loose on her gaunt frame. But her hair cascaded softly down her back and on either side of her face, and the joy in her eyes lit up her entire being. Merlin bent down to whisper in her ear.

"You look beautiful. Dance with me?"

Not waiting for her reply, he swept her up in his arms once more. She placed both her arms about his neck and nestled her face into his shoulder as he began to sway gently to a music only they could hear.

When Freya's parents came to check on them, they found them sitting together once more on the bed. Merlin was sitting with his back against the headboard and Freya cradled in his arms. His lips rested in her hair, frozen in a moment of gentle affection, and hers curved ever so slightly upwards in a blissful smile. They were both asleep.

**. . .**

The skies wept on Sunday morning. Merlin was glad they did, because he could not. There was a coldness in his chest when he awoke, and he knew what was waiting for him on the other end of the line before he even picked up the phone.

Now Freya lay peacefully on the bed, still wearing the gown he had so tenderly dressed her in. Her mother told him she had refused to have it taken off. He traced his fingers lightly over the purple satin and thought how beautiful she looked with her hair brushed glossy and her hands folded modestly in front of her. The moment her mother left the room, however, he reached for her right hand and grasped it tightly. He pressed it to his lips, stoppering the cries that threatened to escape his soul through his mouth.

He thought of the last words he spoke to her.

"I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could save you."

"Oh Merlin." She reached up to caress his cheek. "You did something so much greater. You loved me."

"Please," he choked out, "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." Her voice was barely a whisper. "As long as you hold me," she lowered her hand rest on his heart, "in here."

He could still taste her kiss on his lips.

**FIN**


End file.
